


Phone calls at night

by Wilkins0n15



Series: How to build a home [5]
Category: USWNT - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-01-22 14:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wilkins0n15/pseuds/Wilkins0n15
Summary: Tobin is aware of what people think of her. That she’s calm and chill, in love with a game and the idea of its potential. She’s aware that they think all these things make her cool, but what she hears is that it makes her distant.The friends she keeps close, she keeps close for the fact that they brush off the words she says. Sum it all up as that’s just how she is, and she’s never felt too bold to speak around them. She’s never felt the urge to question or doubt what she feels. But with her, this girl she feels she has known in some way her whole life, this girl she’s just met at different times, as a different person that has her feeling uncertain. Like maybe she shouldn’t be so bold to just say what she’s thinking.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Series: How to build a home [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1468264
Comments: 23
Kudos: 162





	1. Paris

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe a series of one shots... who knows.

Tobin is aware of what people think of her. That she’s calm and chill, in love with a game and the idea of its potential. She’s aware that they think all these things make her cool, but what she hears is that it makes her distant. What she hears is that she’s a mystery, too closed off with her emotions. And it’s a thought that she struggles with, when she doesn’t understand how she can be more honest. It’s a thought that maybe they just don’t understand, that what she says is what she thinks and there isn’t anything more to it. 

Until she meets Christen, first on the field to shake hands as students. Next when they were stood just on the edge of everything, fighting uncertainty of a future they grew up dreaming of. And it’s strange how her words sit warm in her stomach. It’s strange to not have her question the things she says, fight to explain it all. And it’s freeing to just say the words that come to her mind. To voice them all and feel understood is something new. There’s an air of electricity to the thought of it that makes her feel confused. Like she is both uncomfortable and set at ease by it.

The friends she keeps close, she keeps close for the fact that they brush off the words she says. Sum it all up as that’s just how she is, and she’s never felt too bold to speak around them. She’s never felt the urge to question or doubt what she feels. But with her, this girl she feels she has known in some way her whole life, this girl she’s just met at different times, as a different person that has her feeling uncertain. Like maybe she shouldn’t be so bold to just say what she’s thinking. 

But it’s freeing to see the way her eyes light up, how they crinkle in the corner like her words means something big. It’s the tilt to her head when she stares, how she seems to take them in as something cool to savour. So Tobin only thinks of the words after she says them, lets them form on her tongue as quick as she thinks them. And if there is fault in her actions of speaking them, she will meet that obstacle and face their consequence.

She realizes this fact, this fact that her words can shift and change her world, what her life could be with this person. She realizes it during a phone call one fall day in Paris, the light just fading to the dark that nights brings. A phone call in which someone else voices thoughts she’s never paid too much attention to. Words like, “she has green eyes... and I can’t explain exactly what shade they are. All I know is that when I look in them, I want to know everything they see. What the world looks like through them.”

And it hits soft but firm against her sternum, that someone else can explain these thoughts that swim confused in her mind. That the person who voices them, who says them slowly with an uncertainty that brings a feeling of ease to her, is the person who incites such thoughts to form. 

And her answer comes too fast, forming on her tongue as quick as they form in her mind.

“Like they know something you don’t quite understand... but you want more than anything to figure out.” And she doesn’t pause to think that what she’s saying is meant to define someone else. Someone that isn’t her, to the person she wants to get to know again. Know in the way her body tells her she’s meant to, like she feels she supposed to know her. “And it’s a feeling that runs humming through your veins, sits not heavy but full in your chest... and you can’t stop thinking about them, like they’re something you need to know. An answer you need to know to really breathe again, like if they’re green or grey.”

“... they’re green. I’ve no doubt about that.” And it’s then that she realizes that she understands what she means. It’s then that it hits her that the words she said aren’t meant for her. “But you sound like you know what I mean... I’ve been rambling like an idiot over Vero this whole phone call, and I haven’t even asked you about Paris.”

It’s then that she thinks her words are too bold, too much for the moment. It’s then that she feels for the first time that she should’ve of paused before speaking. She should’ve held her tongue.

“It’s okay Chris, I wanted to know all about your life in Sweden... I wanted to know that you’re okay.” And it feels uneasy to hear her voice, low and excited, ramble out words as quick as she thinks of them about some girl she’s just met. But Tobin shakes it off, takes a breath and settles into her chair, thinking she’s content enough just hearing her voice. “Paris is cool... it’s so different here than home and I feel like I know nothing. I feel like I’m alone for the first time in my life and the way they see the game Chris... it’s almost cold, but not uncaring. It’s nothing like I’ve experienced before. But I like not knowing anything here, I like that everything is hard. If that makes sense.”

“Sometimes I think you’re the only person I know that does make sense.” And even though she feels like she should be more careful in what she says to her. That she should be what everyone defines her as, calm and cool and distant. Tobin feels... understood, completely at ease while sat alone in an apartment growing darker by the minute. She feels so many different things that seem both sudden and overwhelming yet soft and certain all at once. “You’re the only person I know that just says what it feels like... and I don’t know how you do that.”

“Do what?” 

She doesn’t know when they started talking so quietly. Knows that they’ve no reason to speak in whispers when they’re all alone in places that know nothing of what they’re saying. But she doesn’t stop to question it, only lets it settle into her bones. Think it feels like home. 

“Make it all so simple, make it make sense. Make it seem not crazy to have moved thousands of miles away from home.” Home, home, home... Tobin lets the word run in her mind, expecting it to feel thick and heavy in her mind. Expects it to trigger thoughts of her family, her friends or something other than what it does. She expects it to scare her, drive her anxious and restless like it did before she came here. Instead it does nothing but make her want to stay still, still enough to hear her breath through the phone. Still enough so that she won’t disturb her. “I don’t know how you do that... make it feel like everything I’m doing is okay.”

“I don’t think that I do that. I don’t think anyone can make it all seem okay all the time-“

“-but you do. And it’s crazy Tobin, it’s crazy that calling you when we barley know each other, makes this all feel... better.”

She doesn’t like that they barely know each other. Doesn’t like that Christen feels that way, when she herself feels so opposite of it. When she feels like Christen is the person she’s supposed to know. But the words won’t come to explain that, and she has no argument against it. They don’t , they don’t really know each other. They haven’t spent the time together that would define them as anything more than acquaintances. And it confuses her that Christen chose to call her, felt bold enough or scared enough to reach out for her. It confuses her.

“You called... and I don’t know why you did. I don’t know why you called me when Tyresö made their offer and I don’t know why you called tonight. And it’s confusing to know that you have so many people that you can call, that know you so much better than me. But you called me and I don’t think I want to question why.”

“I don’t think I can really answer why, you’re just the only person that came to mind.” If that makes Tobin blush, if it makes her heart beat double, it’s only for a second. “You’re the only person I figured would make sense of it, make it seem less scary.”

Its sudden and overwhelming what those words bring, that feeling like everything about her, about Christen, is too big for Tobin to face. So she stops to hold the thoughts at bay, too scared to let them form. And for once in Tobin’s life, she thinks about what exactly she should say... thinks that she’s said too much. That everything about this is too much.

“I thought scary was what we wanted... running away to a whole other part of the world.” Tries to make it sound light, voice just cracking above a whisper, like it isn’t used to such a strain. “We might not be as close of friends as we are with Kelley, but... I am your friend. And if all that means is phone calls when it gets scary. When you don’t want to call home... I’m your person Press.”

“Promise?” Christen doesn’t break above a whisper, she doesn’t seem to fall for Tobin’s attempt to make it all seem like this is a casual phone call. 

“Yeah.” And she isn’t sure if she can even hear her answer.

“Even if I don’t get called into camp and we never see each other again?” Doesn’t want to let her know how crazy she thinks that sounds.

“You know I’ve always known when I meet someone if I’m going to know them forever.” The crack of a door opening somewhere outside of their conversation pulls Tobin crashing back to her apartment. Back to the fact that she’s all alone at her kitchen table, sitting in the dark as the street lights hum just outside her window. Strains to make sense of the sudden voices coming from somewhere on the other end of the phone. Takes a breath before shaking everything off. “I should go.”

“Yeah, I should too...” thinks she can hear someone singing in Spanish. Feels confused at the distance in Christen’s voice, like she’s been drawn away from this moment. Quick to forget it all, “thanks for answering Tobin.”

“Yeah no problem Christen... good luck with Sweden, yeah?” Finds it strange how sudden it’s become easy, easy to talk like they’re friends.

“Yeah,” thinks she likes how happy Christen sounds as she laughs at someone Tobin’s never met. “I think you’re going to love Paris.”

Thinks it odd how they’re nowhere close to each other and it doesn’t seem to matter. 

“Already do... bye.” Thinks that everything she says she means. That if it was anyone else, anyone other than Christen, she’d have to fight to explain herself. 

Instead she lays her phone down, letting the conversation fall to the back of her mind as she leaves in search of some new adventure. Only pauses a floor down when she hears someone singing softly in French. Stops to find the voice as it’s words bleed into Spanish, like whoever is singing isn’t aware they’re doing it. Stands still so not to disturb them, and thinks briefly of eyes that seem more green than grey, before the person turns the corner. Before the singing stops just feet away from Tobin as Shirley Cruz, a new teammate, jumps at the sight of her. 

“Merde!” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” And it’s something new that hits her sternum, hard and sudden. It coils in her stomach, and once again Tobin Heath is unsure of what to say. Not for the reasons she felt while talking to someone she can’t figure out how to explain. But for the reason that she doesn’t have the words to form, doesn’t know what to say. 

“Tobin the America. Right?” Finds herself smiling at such an absurd title as she reaches out to shake her hand. Paces herself slowly through the introductions before following her to some cafe. Pauses once to think she won’t know this person for long, but she wants to know her for as long as she can. Holds back the memory of meeting Christen and all the confusion it’s brought. Slips easy into a Paris night, with the only thought of how different it all is to home.


	2. Empty seats and bus rides home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what Tobin thinks of is that she wants to hear her voice, have it be meant only for her.

Tobin has no idea why or what drives her to do it. She just picks up the phone and thinks about stepping away, about finding some place quiet and empty. But she can’t escape the bus when it’s in motion, doesn’t have anywhere she can she go. No what Tobin thinks of is that she wants to hear her voice, have it be meant only for her. She thinks, while looking back between the seats that she wants her to know how proud she feels. 

So she picks up her phone, glancing at Alex next to her, before pressing call. Tobin sits rigid in her seat, muscles tense at the thought of what she is doing. Thinks she’s never done this before, she’s never called Press before.

She just smiles at whatever it is that Alex says as she leans into the space between them, ear bud in the ear closest to Tobin. Her attention all on whatever Kelly is saying, both too excited over their win, both too tired after the game to pay her any attention. So Tobin sinks back into the seat, focuses on the ring of the call before it gives way to a moment of silence. Tobin sinks rigid into the seat as she waits for christen to say something. 

“Tobin?” Can hear the confusion in her voice, thinks to look back between the seats but finds Alex still yelling at Kelly. 

“Hey…” realizes that she doesn’t know exactly what to say, hasn’t thought that far ahead. So she lets the sounds of the bus, how it echos through the line, settle something between them. “2 goals huh?”

Hears her sigh out a laugh or something a little more nervous than that. Pauses to think that Christen is only 3 rows behind her and if she really wanted to she could just stand up and move to sit next to her. But something stops her, something keeps her rooted to the seat and makes this phone call seem bigger than a simple conversation.

“Yeah,” can hear the disbelief in her voice, “2 goals, somehow.” 

It makes Tobin smile, shy and to herself, like the thought that Christen scoring 2 goals was anything but expected. Tobin finds herself chuckling into the phone like everything about this is absurd. 

“You say that like it’s something surprising.” Finds herself wanting to look back just to know the look on Christen’s face. Focuses instead on the sounds not echoed back to her, like how steady the silence is. “I knew you would be something big once they let you play… I’ve been waiting for it.”

“Waiting for me to score?” Swears she can hear the smile in her voice, thinks that if she looks back she can see it. Imagines it the one that she wears when she’s caught off guard, not paying attention to anything or any one around her. 

“Waiting for you to shine Press.” Notes Alex turning towards her with a questioning look on her face. Her eyes darting to the phone as if in question of who she is talking to. Tobin just turns her head away, focuses on filtering out all the noise around them. “How does it feel to have finally been out there?”

Wants to sink into the white noise of the phone, and be alone with the sound of her on the other end. 

“Like it’s been a dream and I’m about to wake up.” And it resonates something old but new in her, makes her think of the fevered rush of time she felt around her first cap. How high the highs were and how it all seemed to crash down on her once she was alone. 

“Yeah… I felt the same way.” Tobin realizes how low she’s talking, she just lets the words go, hoping that Christen can make them out. Thinks she cant repeat them if she wanted to. “It kind of felt like it was another game. nothing really more than any of the ones I’d played at UNC or for the youth teams. But everything else about it seemed really big, and I don’t know… scary?”

“Yeah, scary seems like the right feeling.” Tobin tries to ignore the tug on her ponytail, the bit of granola that hits her ear. Moves to push Kelley’s hand back over the seat as they laugh, tries to ignore it when she hears.

“Must be talking to Shirley.” Lets that thought sink to the back of her mind, lets it curl into something uneasy in her stomach.

“Maybe I should let you go… it looks like they’re trying to get your attention-” Feels her pulse spike, her stomach drop at the idea of ending this call. Thinks how crazy that sounds when she could just stand up and sit down next to her. 

“-No.” Thinks there is something stopping her from doing just that, thinks she cant say what she wants to say without something between them. Without some form of distance that makes this feel… safe. Tobin thinks that talking to her directly, sitting next to her would be too much and the words would just sit stuck in her throat. “Just… let me move.”

So she moves to the front, find the noise less but not silent. She moves to the front while flipping off Kelley and Alex. She moves to the front with a fleeting look towards Cheney and Arod, who both look at her with a glare of knowing something secret. A glare that says they know she she’s talking to, knows that this can mean so much. It can be something important... and it’s a call to a girl that Tobin isn’t dating. 

Tobin walks to the front, with the feeling of Christen press’s eyes on her as she walks. She stumbled forward as the bus turns, falls into an empty seat. Thinks it’s less noises but not silent. Thinks she needs to say everything fast, everything quick before they become too heavy.

“Tobin?” Realizes neither of them have said anything, neither of them have moved to speak or end the call. “You know... we could just talk at the hotel. I think we’re almost there.”

And the thought of being alone with her, in whatever capacity they can call alone when they’re surrounded by teammates and coaching staff 24/7. Well it seems like it’s too big of a moment for Tobin to handle. Like whatever they mean to each other, whatever this thing that pulls them together, in a way that terrifies her will be too prominent. So she rushes to say it all now, in the safety of being separated by a phone call. In the safety of what intimate moment it’ll give them.

“No. I mean, yeah we’ll see each other when we get off the bus of course. I just,” she breathes hard and slow, steadying the sudden thudding of her heart beat. “I wanted to say this now. Without everyone... being right there.”

She wants to laugh or something when she hears herself say it. Realizes they’re on a very crowded and loud bus. as close to each other, as close to their teammates as they can possibly be. But it’s something about having this conversation over the phone that gives it the air of intimacy that Tobin can handle. 

“We’re literally on the bus Tobin... you could come back here and say it.” She fights the urge to turn around and look at her. 

Fights the urge to see just how confused, and she wants to say intrigued by this. But she doesn’t. She just looks at around her, realizes she’s sitting next to Heft who acts as if she isn’t there. Heft who is focusing on his own phone a little too intently for it to be anything but an act to give her space. So Tobin breathes in on a count of 4,3,2 release.

“I just wanted to say how proud I am of you.” She pauses to let it settle between them, finds that it doesn’t feel as heavy as it should. That it’s not enough to convey just exactly what she’s feeling. “You’ve been fighting and working so hard to get here. To earn your start, to be able to prove that you belong here. And you do, you belong here Chris. I want you to know that you belong here... and I’m not going to pretend that I really understand it all. The uncertainty you’ve had to face when we all knew that you should be here... I always knew you deserved to be here. And you blew everyone away tonight.”

And it comes out rushed, just above a whisper. it comes out quiet and under the ruckus of the bus. It comes out and Tobin wants to say more, feels like she needs to say more. But she pauses at the sound of Christen breathing slow and steady, like she’s counting her breaths on a beat of 4,3,2 release.

“Thanks Tobin.” Thinks she sounds small and unsure.

“I know you get overwhelmed, and that it gets to be... too much.” She turns to face the aisle, holds her phone tighter, harder against her ear. “I know that the game got to be too much for you before. But you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met, and the most determined I’ve ever seen. I know that Sweden was a risk but, Christen, the way you played tonight. Like you loved everything about it, like you loved being out there.” She lets herself glance back towards her for a second, finds she can’t see her anymore. “You’re not the same girl who would stay to take shot after shot alone anymore. You’re something stronger than that now, and I want you to know that I’m proud of you. I’m so fucking proud that you’ve been brave enough to just... let yourself love this again. I’m proud that you’re here when you could’ve just given up but you didn’t... and I always knew you’d get here. Believed it as much as I believed everyone when they said I’d be here. Like it was inevitable, like it was just about finding the right time.” And if the words hit hard against her sternum, well tobin will swallow them down. She’ll eat them whole and let them turn something twisting in her stomach. “I want you to know that I’m proud to get this chance to be here. To watch you play like that, like you’re a force that people can’t ignore anymore. Because you are, you’re something that... shouldn’t be ignored. You’ve earned this. You belong here... don’t let yourself doubt that.”

Tobin lets herself think of all the moments they’ve spent alone. She lets herself think of painting her finger nails so that she could breathe. She thinks of everything she’s done to pull her out of her head, so that she knows Tobin’s here. Tobin will always be here for her in any way that she needs her, wants her, to be. She wants her to know that for all the pull and push she feels to run wild. She’ll always fight to sit still just to let her know she’ll be here. She thinks that she doesn’t fully understand why she’s called her. Don’t fully understand why she had to tell her this... she just knows that she did. Like she knew Christen would be something big, something important, to her from their first meeting. 

“... you always seem to know what I need to hear.” And she wants to stand tall, she wants to know the look on her face. The colour of her eyes. She wants to know everything about her... and she doesn’t know why.

“Well I mean... you scored 2 goals in your first cap Chris. That’s kind of something big.” Wonders why her voice shakes, why it feels ready to break when she says it.

“Yeah, i did, didn’t I?” Thinks she can hear her smile when she says it. “Tobin?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for believing in me.” Thinks it’s absurd a thought to ever not believe she’d be something big. “Thanks for just always being there.”

“Always Press... always, remember?” Forces herself to focus back where she is, lets the sounds filter back in as they echo over the phone. Let’s whatever this is settle deep between her ribs, filling lungs like air. Focuses on the way the med team start to gather their belongings. How the team seem to settle into something less riotous. “I’ll see you at the hotel?”

Looks back to find Pinoe leaning over her seat, laughing at something Cheney has said. Looks back to catch some glimpse of the girl she needed to call. Finds nothing more than teammates, friends she calls something closer to family. Thinks it’s all just beginning.

“Yeah... you’ll see me.” Thinks that today is one of those days she should pay attention to. Closer to the day she signed her commitment to UNC, closer to her own call up. Closer to the day she shook hands with a girl she didn’t know, but felt she’d spend chasing just to have an idea of being something to her. 

She thinks that this phone call, this moment is something only they know about. That it’s something too big to really make a sound but how it shakes the ground under her feet. And she shakes it from her head, breathes steady and deep on a count of 4,3,2 release. Let’s it settle into the edges of her mind as she walks back to her seat. Ignoring the catcalls and errant punches thrown at her. Thinks her eyes seem grey from this distance when she sees her. 

“How’s Shirley? Is she missing our little Tobito?” Feels her smile wain and waver before falling cold as she forces herself to look away. Forces herself to push Pinoe back enough to sit.

“Couldn’t wait to call her at the hotel? My, my now... is Tobin Heath in deep with this girl?” Tries to duck away from Kelley’s touch while avoiding the look in Cheney’s eye. 

“Nothing like that O’Hara.” Thinks she sees Cheney look past them to someone else. Feels anxious until Alex leans into her, feels anxious until Alex calls order.

“Guys leave her alone.” Lets her focus be Alex as she leans back against the window. “you still on for hanging out?” 

“Always dude.” Wonders if she’ll be there too.

“Cool. We’re thinking champagne and all the chocolate you can shove down Kelley’s shirt without dawn noticing for Christen’s big night.” Tobin shrugs to the idea, sitting straight and rigid at the sudden familiarity of the street. She sits still and rigid at the realization she’ll be face to face with her.

She thinks it was just a phone call... like then one in Paris. Like the one before Sweden. Finds herself nervous as the bus pulls into the hotel parking lot. Thinks something is starting, scared of what it could be. Feels her phone ringing in her hand, sees the name on the screen. 

Thinks how it could all change so quickly, shaking everything under foot of she’s honest. Shakes it all from her head as she answers instead of letting it pull her too deep. 

“Mi amor!” Tries to focus on her laugh instead of the looks on all their faces.

Sighs into the phone as Shirley speaks in broken English, with words in French breaking through. Hums her answers, and nods her head to the questions like it’s an answer. She walks out ahead of Christen, feels the weight of her eyes as they walk in some semblance of order. Stops just on the periphery of the crowd, staring at her reflection in the window. Thinks she’ll know her forever, but chooses to focus on the now. On Shirley who laughs through the phone, tongue thick with words too close to Spanish for Tobin to make sense of. Tobin thinks she eyes are too confusing, all storm grey with hints of green in the reflection. Tobin tries to act like it was just a phone call... just a way to congratulate her. 

Finds her mind now lost to the words on the phone. Finds her mind now lost to the world around them. Thinks no one will notice if she stands still for a minute longer. Fights to pay notice to the way Christen is smiling. Fights to remember every line of her face, every twitch of her mouth. Fights to remember the weight of her gaze in the reflection of the window. 

And she doesn’t know why she does it, doesn’t stop to think about it. She just mutters goodbye, lets slip words of adoration before turning toward her. Stumbles over the steps it takes to meet her half way. Studies the nervous biting of lip, the uncertainty of her eyes falling somewhere between them. She stops mid way, too scared to step closer. Shakes it all from her head and thinks it just a phone call. Like Paris and Sweden, it was out of place, and too big to make a noise in the moment.

“So... 2 goals. Like some kind of big shot.” Feels her smile hit soft against her sternum, filling lungs like air and shaking the floor beneath her feet. And Tobin thinks her faith can be tested, her decisions questioned and doubted... but she’ll learn to sit still for moments like this.


	3. Decisions in Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was the phone call that first made her feel guilty for everything she felt about Christen. The first time she began to really question it all, her thoughts, her feelings... her actions.

Phone calls

The phone calls had become something casual and routine. There was no rhyme or reason to them, all Tobin knew was that either she or Christen would call once a week to check in. They were nothing nothing more than an update, most times only lasting a couple minutes. It was just a call to say hello. A way to feel connected to whatever it was they called home, or something like it. And others, well other times it felt like something more, something big.

On a week in December, just before Christmas, just before Christen’s 25th birthday, Tobin called her. She wants to say she had no intention to say everything she did. now years later she knows the answer as to why she called. Things with Shirley were still new, and they had begun to settle into knowing what it was like to be committed. Committed to a place, a person; to the potential of what that could all mean. But something was shifting, changing between them and it had made Tobin uncertain about everything. 

So she called Christen, the person she felt she could talk to without thought. Without the need to explain all the things that ran rampant in her head. She just called her. Like it was something casual. Like it was something routine. Found it strange how desperately she wanted her to answer. How much she hoped she wouldn’t. Felt the need for it to ring out to a voicemail so that she could play it all off as nothing. 

But as always, on the last ring before she knew it would click, pause, and then play a recording. Christen answered. 

For all the things that Tobin remembers most, such as her first call to camp. The day she signed her commitment to unc. All the phone calls home when she felt disconnected and all alone. Out of all of them, she couldn’t tell you why she felt the need to remember this one, but she has. 

From the rushed and slightly out of breath, “hello?” To the silence they sat in before hanging up, like it was something that could ground them, her. 

It was just a phone call. nothing out of the ordinary. 

it started with a rushed and slightly out of breath Christen saying, “hello?”

Tobin had paused at her voice. Thought it sounded like Christen had ran to answer the phone. Had stopped whatever thing she was doing so she could answer. There was no hesitation or confusion to her voice. No indication that she could think it was anyone other than Tobin. She answered like she knew who was calling. Was out of breath because she had stopped in the middle of something. She was out of breathe like she had rushed to answer it.

“Hi,” Tobin can, to this day, feel how thick it felt to say that word. 

How her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, her voice cracking and giving way. Tobin will tell anyone that asks her, that she felt as if she was fighting to stay on just this side of okay. Fighting to not fall, like the ground was uneven and any minute it could give way. 

“Hi.” She found her voice soothing, comforting enough to let everything break loose. Didn’t rush to break the silence just paid attention to the rustling on the other end. the sudden quiet of Christen stepping somewhere less chaotic. “Sorry I’m just stepping into my bedroom.”

“It’s okay.” Felt uncertain as to why she was calling, as to why it all felt so heavy. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Thought it crazy how she pulled it all to the surface, like she knew Tobin was uncertain.

“Nothing- there isn’t... anything wrong.” Thought the words were a lie, knew she did too. “I just needed...” wanted to say her. “I just wanted to talk.” But couldn’t form the words. “Kind of needed to hear a bit of home right now.” 

Fought the sudden rush of her pulse, the flutter beneath her sternum, as she said it. 

“You’re leaving on Thursday right?” Hated that she didn’t seem to understand just exactly what she meant. “You’ll be home soon?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m flying out Thursday night... but that’s not what I meant.” Wasn’t sure if she could explain exactly why she called, or what she was trying to say. “I just needed to talk to someone who would... get it.”

Counted her breaths on a beat of 4,3,2 release. Found comfort in the way Christen waited, patient, without need to rush the silence.

“Get what?” Tobin found her head swimming with their last phone call, the one a few weeks before this. 

The one in which Christen had said she had decided. She made up her mind while drinking whiskey from a glass, alone in her apartment, with Tobin on the line. Christen had decided to break up with Vero. Her voice was raw and broken, the words thick and slow. 

“Not being home.” And Tobin will tell you now, that the thing she had wanted to say then, was too big for her to make sense of.   
“I know we’ve- I’ve been here in Paris for awhile, but I don’t- I just... I still feel-“

“-Unsettled?” Her voice forming that word set a wave of contradiction through Tobin. It shifted the ground beneath her feet just slightly, caused her stomach to clench like she was about to fall. “Like no matter what, it just doesn’t feel completely like... something other than another hotel room, another camp?”

Like some something in between home and those things, those places. But that’s a thought Tobin wasn’t sure she could voice, not then. Not until they were alone, sat next to each other, both paying too much attention to the space between them. This phone call on this day, was the beginning to the end for Tobin and Shirley. 

And if asked about it, Tobin will say she hates everything about it. Say she wished Christen hadn’t answered, that she had figured it all out on her own. 

What she did say that day, with a sigh brought on by her frustration of everything was, “yeah... something like that.” Felt it form heavy and tight as a knot in her chest. “Only now, now there’s this- this pressure to decide, you know?” 

Fumbled over the words in a sudden rush to get them all out. To let them bleed into each other so that their meaning would seem some how less than it was.

“Decide what?” That was the question that Tobin had wanted her so desperately to ask. It the was question that had her hoping she wouldn’t answer. Because she knew that if anyone else ever asked her it, she would hum something out, play it off as not important. “”Tobin?” Make believe she already had her mind set, found herself terrified that she already had her mind set. But this was Christen asking, and Tobin never found herself wanting to voice it all with anyone else. “What do you need to decide that has you so quiet?” 

She never found the comfort or the patience of silence as she stumbled over finding the right words with any one else. And for all the confusion, all the big things that near drown her when she thinks of her. She knows without doubt or hesitation, that Christen is the person she can just... be with. She can be honest and scared, feels no need to keep safe.

So she doesn’t.

“Everything has been easy... here...” found a sudden interest in the crawl of frost just outside her apartment window. “-with Shirley at least.” 

Felt her words were small, the tone of her voice controlled but weak. Kept asking herself why? Why did she call? What is she wanting out of this phone call?

“I know... I’m glad for you.” Took pause to tear apart the way she said those words. Thought them slightly practiced, too even and pronounced. “Tobin you’ve been happy with her, and happy being in Paris.... I don’t know what this decision you have to make is... but I think I know you well enough to say that you’ve probably somewhat decided on your answer.”

She hadn’t, not yet, but the thought of her answer. The shape of the thing she wanted was already formed, a silhouette in the back of her mind. Nothing was certain though, nothing was solid and defined. And that’s maybe why Tobin called... why she needed Christen of all people to answer. Hoped so desperately that she wouldn’t. 

“Why do you say that?” Wanted to hear just what she thought of her in that moment.

Found the pause too long for the count of 4,3,2, release. 

“Do you remember my first camp?” Like it was yesterday, is the first thought to run through Tobin’s mind. She kept it on her tongue, just hummed out some sort of acknowledgement. “You mentioned that you thought I bite my nails when i’m thinking things through... and it seems dumb to mention it. You said it like you say everything, like it was just a casual thing. A fact... and that’s like this, it’s just something you do.” She says it like she’s distracted, like it’s all so simple. “You think about things, keep them close, hold them all in... until you don’t. You just say them in that almost infuriating way that you say things.”

It’s all said as if Christen is busy focusing on something else. Focusing on something to distract herself, to make it less.

“I infuriate you?” And Tobin knows that’s not what Christen wants her to take from all that, but it is. It’s something coy and heavy with a hundred different meanings. 

“Tobin.” Tried so hard to keep from smiling, from holding onto the way the words hit soft against her sternum. “That’s- I didn’t... I meant that it’s just something you do. It’s something I just know about you. God, how are you making me all flustered for saying it?”

And that feeling rumbles out from beneath her ribs, like the way thunder sounds. Low and deep, running in waves throughout her. The idea that Tobin can make her flustered, could illicit any type of reaction like that. 

“Flustered?” They could’ve slipped so easily into making the phone call something less than what Tobin wanted. She clung to it as a way to shrug it all off, make all the confusion she felt as something safe. 

“Shut up.” She could’ve forgotten it all, lost herself in the moment of Christen’s nervous laugh. “Just... tell me what’s wrong. Why did you call?”

It could’ve been all so easy, to just ignore everything outside of them. Ignore that thing deep in the back of Tobin’s mind. That idea, of something that tested her faith, her idea of home. She breathed in deep, held it until her lungs felt too full, too heavy. 

“What if I stayed?” Sighed the words out like it would make it all easier. Make the idea lighter than it was. 

“Stayed where? In Paris?” Tried to tear those words apart, grasping for some hint of confusion in her voice. Searched for some form of hesitation, hurt or... something. Anything that she could hold in, use to ground herself. “Like over Christmas?”

Found she couldn’t figure out the tone of Christen’s voice.

“No... like I made this my team. Stayed for the season... only go back for the summer... for camp.” Tried to say that she’d make this place home. Whatever that word meant, however heavy it seemed. “What if this was... whatever it is we call home?”

The question sits heavy, echoing something over them. Something that they have both ignored but has always sat between them. It’s then that Tobin realizes what she wants out of the call: what she wants from Christen is for her to say no. She wants her to tell her no, to go home; whatever that is. That Paris isn’t the place to set roots that deep, Shirley isn’t the one she should be trying to stay for. 

Tobin wants Christen to say that she can feel it too. This pull, want, need to be around the other. She wants to know that whatever it was that hit her, that grows wild and chaotic in her veins since they first met, isn’t just in her head. 

After a moment too long, the silence so loud it’s deafening, does Christen speak.

“Par- you, Paris?” And she’d laugh if it wasn’t for the hesitation with which Christen formed those words. She’d have laugh if it wasn’t for the panicked feeling of falling. “You’re going to move to Paris?”

And that’s the difference between their lives and everyone else’s. Playing in Paris is far different than moving there, staying there between camps and seasons. Playing there is a commitment to the game, but nothing more. Moving there is something Tobin has never even contemplated anywhere else.

That’s the difference between being with Shirley when in Paris... and moving there. Tobin has done the whole relationship when playing somewhere. Has moved between teams and girls as casually as she has chosen a different city to sleep in, a different couch to crash on. But staying... coming back between games and camps. Well that’s something different... that’s a commitment to growing up. To fighting that itch in her feet, that chaos that keeps her from sitting still. 

It means she’s choosing to be something she has never been for Shirley.

“I don’t know-“ and her chest hurts, like she can’t get enough air in her lungs. “It’s- maybe? She just asked me and- I haven’t answered. I don’t- can’t figure out- what’s stopping me?” She wanted to ask her, ask her to say something, anything, to make the choice solid. “She was right I- I need to... grow up.”

Tobin can tell you now, that her fingertips had turned white from how hard she was holding the phone. Like it was a life line that was fraying. That she had chosen to breathe shallow and slow so not to disturb her. That she wanted desperately for Christen to say all the right things to make the choice easy. 

Instead... she held her breath as Christen sighed. Held her breath, focused on the absence of noise from the room Christen was in. She held her breath.

“What does that mean?” It was a question Tobin didn’t have an answer to. A question she couldn’t fully grasp or understand herself. “I... you could lose your spot in the player pool.”

“I’d still play in the NWSL, I’d still be eligible.” She repeats what Shirley has said, thinks the argument solid enough to make sense.

“Your family... the team- every.... everyone is stateside.” And she thought of all of them, held her breath while listening to Christen. To the person she knew... she knew she would listen to if she said to stay or to go. “Is that what you really want?”

Tobin has thought of this conversation, questioned her intentions for the call, when sat alone at night. Weighed the rights and wrongs of it... of asking someone, her, to answer her indecision. Found that she had wanted her to answer why she felt at war over loving someone. Because she did love Shirley. Knew it in the early morning when she woke to an empty bed. Walked in on Shirley singing half in French, falling back into Spanish as she danced around her kitchen. 

She loved Shirley, didn’t question it, has never questioned it. No. What she questioned was herself. Was too afraid of who she was in their love. Too timid to fall completely into it. Found it all a fight to stay still, to be content with the moment. 

“I-“ felt it all trapped in her chest, her lungs, her throat. “I don’t know what it is I want.” She loved Shirley... wanted Christen’s voice to help make the decision. “I love... it all, everything about here. I do-“

“-It just doesn’t feel like home.” And Tobin can remember how deeply she wanted to yell, snarl out the question of what is home? What did it mean or look like, how was she to define it when they lived like they did. 

She wanted to hear Christen explain it, give it form so that she knew what or how to define it. She wanted Christen to tell her what home was supposed to look like. She wanted her to say that everything she was feeling, all the confused messiness of it all, of loving someone but not feeling settled, was okay. She wanted to know that not knowing if she was ready to... stay. To build a home. That it was all okay. That she wasn’t failing or falling short of who she was supposed to be. 

She felt like she was failing Shirley. Felt like if she stayed, if she made the wrong choice she’d fail... her. In some way she’d fail her, cause the phone calls, the feelings, the uneasy calm her voice brought... she’d cause it all to end. She didn’t want it to end.

“I don’t even know what home is.” Found the words slipping out in a cold and distant tone. Felt them tearing open her chest, leaving her exposed to Christen. Vulnerable and scared. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it... with coming back over and over, like this is where I’m supposed to be.”

She can describe the city street below her apartment. Could feel the cold seeping in through the window pane. She can still count the number of mugs left on her counter and end tables. Noted the pile of clothes by the tv, a pair of cleats half hidden under a chair next to them. She committed the room to memory in the silence of the phone call. Strained to hear Christen’sa aw breath over the line, strained to hear any indication that Christen was still there. 

“It sounds like you’ve already made your decision tobin... and I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.” The catch in her voice, the tired way in which she spoke... was nothing that Tobin had expected. “But I think what I’d want to hear is that you’re okay. You’re okay Tobin.”

“I know I am... I just don’t know if what I decide will keep things... okay.” What she was really asking, was if they’d be okay. If Christen would still be there no matter what she decided. “Everything... everything would look so different.”

It was the way that Christen sighed then, like she was trying to let go of how serious this conversation felt. It was that sigh that made everything feel okay for Tobin, like the ground had settled beneath her feet.

“Different is what we wanted... before we moved out here to play.” Tobin thought then of every question that lead her to here, to coming to Paris just to play a new form of the game she loves. Found something different, not just someone to love but a new want. A new need to really understand what home could be. “I know that you’ve already decided, made up your mind... and I’m not sure what decision you made. But I can say this Tobin... I can say that you’re a constant in my life. As much a constant as anything is in this life we’re living.” Her voice sounded like a balm to the ache of insecurity she felt. “Whatever you decide, we’ll still talk. Still see each other at every camp we get in called into... that hasn’t changed.”

“It won’t ever change?” How desperate she felt to hear Christen say no. No, they’d never change. Always be on the periphery of each other’s minds even across oceans. 

“No, I don’t think it ever will.” That was what Tobin wanted to hear when she called. 

It was why she was so desperate that Christen not answer. Because her answer, it felt both infinite and finite. Like Tobin could do anything, decide anything and still be okay no matter the outcome. And it felt heavy thinking that they’d be no more than this, made her think of how she wanted, wants, more than this with her.

“Promise?” Felt her voice shake and break with the weight of that word. Counted Christen’s breaths over the phone... counted them on a slow and even count of 4,3,2... 4,3,2... 4,3,2.

“Yes,” release.

She can’t say how long they clung to the sound of each other breathing. How much she wished for Christen to break the silence. How scared she was to break the silence. Wanted to just know how it felt to have her be so close when so far. So she sat still, just to know the sound of her breath on the phone. Tobin sat perfectly still just to know that Christen was there.

She can tell you that the light outside faded to a dull and heavy grey before she heard another voice filtering through the phone. She startled, and all that chaos that keeps her from still being still came rushing back. There was a voice on the other end of the phone, clipped and distorted that called Christen’s attention away. And Tobin thought, just for a second... that she could choose her without a second thought. Without doubt or hesitation. That maybe running towards home was the opposite of what she’s been doing. 

“Chris?” And she knew her answer before she called, felt she needed to hear her voice to confirm it. To make it solid and whole enough that it would ground her.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” She didn’t know what to say, couldn’t think of what more to say.

“Always.” Hates how heavy and uneasy it felt in her chest, that decision she made. “I’ll- I’ll see you soon? At camp maybe?”

“Yeah, at camp.” Thought how strange it was that their closest idea of home was some hotel with a team that was always changing. Always unsure and never settled. 

So she let herself count out the rhythm of Christen’s breath on a slow and steady count of 4,3,2, release. Before hanging up. 

Sat still in her chair by a window frosted over, let the dark of night wash over her before she thought to move.

Tobin will tell you know that the phone call was important because she suddenly stopped wanting to run from what they knew, thinking she could find some defined idea of home. It was that phone call that made her think, she knew what home meant to her... had an idea of what it looked like. Felt she’d been running from it and not towards it. Felt sick with unease at how she couldn’t place Shirley in it. 

Can say how that was the beginning of the end for her and Shirley. When they were just starting out. And she’s weighed the rights and wrongs of her actions. Had her faith tested by pretending to stay for someone she never felt she could be still for. 

But it was the end of something she needed to be ready for the one she wanted. The first time she allowed herself to really want that idea of Christen. 

This was the phone call that first made her feel guilty for everything she felt about Christen. The first time she began to really question it all, her thoughts, her feelings... her actions.


	4. Phone calls half past three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christen hated how much she need to hear Tobin say, with whiskey on her breath, that she missed her. That even if they hadn’t started, weren’t ready to start... she wasn’t crazy to think it. Think how she could love her.

When Christen is asked about their relationship she tells everyone that they grew into it. There was no sudden start or stop, no period of indecision. She always says that it grew with them. Was always a part of them until the moment it just became... everything.  
  
But when pushed, she can pinpoint moments when it felt indecisive. When it felt uneven and unsure, even if the moment only lasted a few hours. Because the thing about them is that it was always there between them. It was always at the back of their minds. They may not have acknowledged it until they were years into it. Might’ve played dumb and blind to it, pretended how they constantly sought the other out. How they always mentioned each other in errant conversation without thought. Pretends it was all normal, casual and friendly ways to act. 

Christen thought that was just how Tobin acted.  
  
Because Tobin was, is... just calm. Has never been scared to just say things. She’s never hesitated to reach out and touch, act or just... be around with anyone. Christen has seen it every day she’s spent with her. How people just sigh into her presence, fall into her calmness like it’s something easy. And she never questioned Tobin’s actions. Has never thought to think about all the things she does... because Tobin is just something easy she finds herself falling into.  
  
She never questioned the act of Tobin bringing her coffee every morning. How she made it perfectly to her liking even though she doesn’t remember ever telling her. She never questioned how Tobin offered to paint her nails when she felt anxious. Or how she would ignore other people’s invitations for something chaotic, something wild. Instead always chose to stay back, to just stay by Christen’s side. 

She never questioned it because it was just something Tobin did. Like the way she would invade peoples spaces, duck under arms or reach over distances to offer a comforting touch. She never questioned it. Until Cheney mentioned far too casually for Christen’s liking that Tobin has always been careful to be gentle with her. 

“She’s just different with you Chris, she always has been.” Christen fell silent as she held the words in her mouth like something awkward, as if she thought it all so strange a comment.  
  
Thinks now, how she’d never questioned any of it until a camp after her 25th birthday. Just months after that phone call in which Tobin seemed unsure, like she could be scared. She didn’t pay it any attention until the game after Costa Rica. when suddenly Tobin seemed determined to keep her distance. Christen hasn’t noticed any of it. No she played blind... until that night on the beach when they both seemed determined. Determined to pay attention to the space, or lack of it, between them. 

Thinks back, now, to how they kept everything outside of them. Kept all those people, friends and family... and others, on the periphery of the moment. That night that Tobin dared to ask that question. the one that seemed to shift the world on its axis. Caused the waves to slow in the ocean and the night to speed by too fast.   
  
The night that Christen, in a rare moment of boldness, answered without thought, without hesitation or fear... she just answered. 

She admitted something she knew was always there. Something deep in the pit of her stomach, hidden in the back of her mind. The thought that Tobin... Tobin meant so much more than she could ever voice.  
  
And she stumbled over her words when Cheney said it. That Tobin was different with her, gentle and apt to what she felt or did. She found the sounds forming than falling thick from her tongue. Mind racing, pulse pounding as she fought to organize everything into something tangible. Into something solid and whole. like a thing she could hold. Like a thing she could show people and have them understand. Into something close enough to a fact. 

She was always better with facts.

She wanted it to be something they could understand without the need for her poor attempt in describing it. Because her and Tobin, well it was something more than just attraction... something more than just friendship between them. 

It was something slow until it was sudden. 

An idea that first formed with a handshake. Began to take shape when they were introduced while stood on either side of Kelley O’Hara. But it wasn’t until the absence of Tobin, and all the small and casual things she did, that Christen found it. The word that she could use to describe it all... the messiness and bigness of it.

It was a word she knew of but never truly understood... not like this. 

It was something too big to voice, too loud to contain... so simple, but too intricate to explain. It was a contradiction... like the idea of yin and yang. It was both slow and sudden how Christen dared to let herself think it. Say something close to it. Hoped Tobin understood it when she said, “I promise.”

And she stands by her words when she says they grew into it. That there was no sudden stop or start to them. But when pushed, she can pin point a moment she doubted it. Hates how she doubted it, even if it was for a night. An hour or so. 

After the beach Tobin was distant, always around but just out of reach. Cautious in her actions, reserved in her thoughts and words. Determined to play out her role outside of them. Christen knows now that it was so she could be who they both needed her to be. Hates that what settled her, calmed all hesitation, was a phone call misplaced in the in-between of them.

Tobin had called, at too late an hour for it to be anything less than significant.

They won their match against Costa Rica, and for the first time since she met Tobin, she saw her with someone else. She saw her with Shirley, in the way that the others said they saw Tobin act with her. Gentle and patient, apt to all the things about her. Felt the unease of Tobin rushing past her, running from her, on the field. 

Found her mind racing, pulse pounding and thoughts turning at the way she held her gentle. The way she seemed to not care about anything but her. Hated how she felt so alone, so far out of reach. 

Hates how a phone call at too late an hour for it to be anything but significant has stuck with her.

She had opted out of any post game drinks. Opted out of meeting the other team, of meeting Shirley. Had wanted her to be nothing more than just a name she’s heard in passing. Didn’t want to give her form or shape, didn’t want her to be anything close to real. She opted out of being anything but alone.

Felt herself shifting, near drowning, in the idea of what Tobin could mean. Fought the urge to cry when she didn’t know why she would. Instead moved through her routine of journaling, of washing her face, dressing for bed. Laid awake in frustration of sleep not coming. Found her phone ringing at half past three in the morning. Answered while on just this side of awake.

“Hello?” Turned her head away at the noise coming tinny and distorted through the phone.

“Christen!” Hates to admit how different Tobin’s voice sounds after a drink too many.

“Tobin?” Fought the confusion of half asleep, the sudden feeling of concern. “What time is it?”

“I- ouch, sorry dude.” Moved to sit up, found herself glancing over at Cheney’s empty bed out of habit. “Sorry I bumped into some dude.”

Blinked the numbers into clarity while the sounds lessened on Tobin’s end but never quieted. Thought of every possibility for Tobin to call her at 3:37 am. Wondered where Shirley was before she shook it all off, took pause to fight the irritation she felt rising.

“Tobin.” Kept her voice even and clear even though she wanted, oh how Christen wanted so badly, to be angry with her. 

“Yeah press?” Felt the way she casually replied just adding to her irritation. 

“It’s 3:30 in the morning.” Fought to keep her voice even, could feel it crack from the weight of her irritation.

“Oh.” Could imagine Tobin pulling the phone away to check the time. Speaking before she brought it back to her ear. “Shit... I didn’t realize how late it was.”

Took pause, counted the number of voices she could hear coming through. Wondered exactly where she was, if she was stood outside some club. Tried not to think of all the times she’d find Tobin walking languidly to her side on some patio. 

“What do you want Tobin?” Pictured drawings on napkins, paper roses and the way she’d stare like there was something secret in Christen’s eyes.

“... you know, I’ve been trying to figure that out.” Thought of how she sounded on the beach, on the phone while in Paris. “I’m sorry I called so late.”

Felt her irritation ebb and flow with her words, never fully calming but settling into the pit of her stomach.

“It’s okay... I couldn’t really sleep anyway.” Reminded herself that Tobin... Tobin wasn’t hers to be upset with. “Where are you?”

Held her breath in wait of the answer, played out the distance that Tobin has kept over the past few days.

“Some bar down the street... I don’t really know to be honest.” Could feel the question of where...where She was, sit in the back of her throat. Tried to clear it from her voice, tried to swallow it whole. “Christen?”

“Yeah?” Felt her stomach drop at how softly she said her name. Thought it unfair that she called so late an hour... hated the significance of the hour.

“I know I shouldn’t have called...” let the burn behind her eyes build. Held them closed in an attempt to keep it all in. 

“Why- why did you call?” Expected her voice to sound heavy with the irritation she’d been fighting. Instead just sighed it all out like it could lift the weight of the conversation.

“I need- I... I wanted to hear your voice.” Hated how it hit her sternum, not soft or hard but firm. Counted out the silence on a beat of 4,3,2... release.

Wanted to say why she was irritated, why she felt so heavy and unsure. She wanted to say she missed her. Found it all so silly a thing to think when Tobin’s been so close. Been around her all camp, nearer now than she had in months. But she missed her... missed the quiet of the morning while they sat drinking coffee. Missed just being in her presence, felt the absence of her calmness. Thought it so silly that it was barely a week since the beach... but felt the distance too deep for her to cross. 

“Wanted to?” Sighed out the word she said, felt bold enough to challenge why she stopped, paused, before saying the word needed. Thought how heavy that word really is.

“Yeah... I wanted to hear your voice.” Strained to hear any hesitation in her voice, any give in her tone to hint at why she said it. “I wanted you to come out with ... us.”

Wondered how Tobin could still be so bold yet soft even when intoxicated. Wondered if she’d even remember this phone call in the morning.

“Tobin-“

“- I know. I know- get, why you didn’t come.... but I wanted you to.” Could hear just how much she meant that, found it all so confusing, so overwhelming. Wanted to just sit with the sound of her voice on the line and let it all come out. Jagged and heavy. 

Startled at the sound of someone yelling Tobin’s name. Felt her anger flair, rising up into her chest. Swallowed it whole.

“I didn’t think it would be a good idea.” Clenched her fist so her nails bit the skin and thought this was all so unfair. 

“You’re probably right... I’m sorry I’ve been-“

“-distant?” Voice raised and clipped, something close to anger. 

“Yeah.” Found her voice not soothing, only stoking her anger. “Yeah I’m sorry I’ve been distant.”

“Why?” Felt it all crack and bleed out slow on her breath. Questioned how bold she could be.

“Because... because I need to figure this out right now.” Pictured her standing slumped and small, could hear it in her voice. Wanted to stay angry... wanted so badly to be angry.

“I know you do.” Missed her more in that moment than she’d ever missed her. Wanted to pin point the moment she started missing her, started noticing the absence of her. Was scared that if she did... it would be longer than a week. “I know you’re still with her... that everything’s just... out of time.”

Found herself wishing that they weren’t so bold on the beach. That they never acknowledged this thing, whatever it is, knew then what it was, between them. Hated how the breath she let out, steady and slow, calmed her. Made her think of painted nails, and phone calls over distance. Made her think of the lines of her face, the softness of her gaze. The calm she could breathe in when sat beside her. 

“... there’ll be a time for us, right?” Could hear someone calling for Tobin in the background. 

“Yeah... it’s just not now.” Wasn’t sure if she felt settled with the idea, the promise that maybe they’ll be something. Hated how impatient she felt now that she’s finally found the word to describe it all. 

“Chris?” Wanted to be brave enough to say the word, to even just think it. 

“Yes Tobin?” 

“I miss you.” Felt her eyes burn, her breath catch like she’d been hit in the sternum. Bit her tongue to keep from yelling how unfair it all was. 

Instead she held her breath, counted it out on a rhythm of 4,3,2, “I miss you too.” 

Felt her anger ebb into something different, something heavier that burned the back of her throat, her eyes.

“I don’t want to ever not know you... I want you to know that.” Thought of the way she looked when stood across a room as they signed their papers for the Pali blues. 

Thought how she was stood on a patio down the street, with a girl calling her name.

“I feel like you already do... know me.” Needed Tobin to understand what she meant. That she missed her because... Christen had never felt seen until she met her. 

“I want to know everything about you.” Clung tighter to the phone, wishing the sounds would lessen, let the words hit not soft but firm against her sternum.

“... it’s late Tobin.” Clung to the way they settled in her stomach. Like her words were a promise that even with the ground so uneven they’d make it past this. Hated how her voice had grown stronger in the background, closer to wherever Tobin was stood. “You should go back to- the group.”

“Okay.” Heard how her voice cracked with something not unlike sadness... not unlike regret. “Good night Christen.”

“Good night Tobin.” Let the sounds of the night ring tinny and loud. Clung to the idea that she was still on the line... still somewhere close, before forcing herself to hang up.

And Christen will tell you they grew into this, never started then stopped. Always felt it between them, out of time until suddenly it wasn’t. But there were times it was uncertain, heavy and too much. Like the time she first thought of the word to describe the thing they ignored.

She thought how she loved her... felt it all too bold, too big a thing for the moment. Knew then as she knows now... that they needed to grow into it. Hated how long the distance felt as they did. 

Will laugh at how silly it all is, that a drunken phone call from Tobin was the thing to confirm it. The thing that made her really think it... how much she could love her. Hates to admit how much she needed such a childish act to settle her. 

Hated how much she need to hear Tobin say, with whiskey on her breath, that she missed her. That even if they hadn’t started, weren’t ready to start... she wasn’t crazy to think it. Think how she could love her.


	5. Refocus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are things Tobin needs certain people to know. She needs them to know that she never ignored Christen. No... she refocused.

There are things Tobin needs certain people to know. She needs them to know that she never ignored Christen... the phone calls never stopped. Instead they turned to texts and only lessened, made sure they lessened, in their intensity. The thing Tobin needs certain people to know is that she never ignored Christen, no... she refocused. She refocused because everything that was happening outside of them... well it was monumental. 

She had a roster to make, a World Cup to help win. A relationship to figure out... even if she didn’t feel completely committed to it. Even if she felt overwhelmed and scared by it. No, she never ignored Christen, she just refocused because 2015 was one of those years that changed everything Tobin knew about herself. It was definitive and finite in the way all big years are in someone’s life. 

She refocused, but never ignored Christen, she never sought her out, made sure to never confuse her. She didn’t want to confuse her... didn’t want her to feel all the things she felt. Thought that too unfair a thing to ask of her. 

Tobin refocused everything back to the game. Back to the questions she felt coming down on her like waves, waited desperately for the break, at times felt as if it wouldn’t break. Only then did she allow herself to call her or text her, only then did she allow herself to be around her. In 2015 she allowed herself to settle into the bigness of how she felt... allowed herself to reset, refocus, and fight to figure it all out. 

She never ignored Christen, but she didn’t go out of her way to be away from her. Didn’t think to hide anything away from her. Never thought to hold it in, keep it secret. No, she laid it all out for Christen to read. to tear apart and stitch back together. But the thing about Christen press is that she would never do such a violent act as letting someone love her out of time. The frustrating thing about Christen press was that she was everything that Tobin needed. 

Tobin didn’t avoid her, but she refocused the attention she paid her to keeping firm a boundary. She didn’t suddenly stop everything, couldn’t have stopped how she acted when around her. She couldn’t have stopped it... not when their focus was on making the roster. She used that as the boundary to figuring it all out. Used it as a way to keep safe from these things that felt like they were crushing her. These people who asked too much of her. 

Tobin used the World Cup as a way to keep her distance.

She didn’t say no to moving to Paris, only claimed that it wasn’t the time for her to do so. Not when the tournament was so close to home. Not when the pressure to win was at its peak. Not when she felt so uneasy and chaotic about everything else. She refocused, let her life become about the game first, Shirley second. Debated the rights and wrongs of her decision when all alone in a hotel room, practice field or her apartment in Portland.

She refocused to what she knew.

Took solace in the act of dancing with the ball instead of someone else. Found patience in the routine of working out. Worked through her frustration in the motions of the field. And when she found her emotions frayed, her frustration too much, her body spent and her mind restless... she found solace in the presence of people she thought closer than family. 

Found herself falling into the calmness of knowing what it meant to sit still next to her. 

This is the thing Tobin wants certain people to know.... she never ignored Christen. Could never ignore her, not when Christen’s been on the periphery of Tobin’s mind since they first shook hands. So she refocused... stood still on the field, made sure not to step closer, but never ignored her. She sat in the open chair next to her at meals, but never moved it closer. Was certain to never move closer. She never ignored Christen, didn’t leave rooms when she found the people all gone, only Christen left waiting. She never ignored her but she kept her on the periphery, she refocused.

Tobin Called Shirley or family, or people she thought closer than family, instead of her. Thought it not her place to call her when feeling so lonely. And when asked how she found Portland to be home, this is how she says she found it.

By seeking out people and places outside of Christen that felt like she could be still with. 

She Found a coffee shop, not crowded but full, where she could breathe. Signed autographs and posed for pictures while in between chapters of her book and coffee cups. Played games in living rooms with friends she’s known for half a life time. Noted the way in which they moved through their days, from moments alone to crowded rooms. Began to carve out what a day could look like if only she allowed herself to settle into something outside of soccer. Into something outside of everything she knew.

She ignored the ache in her feet, the twitch of her fingers to run to someplace unknown. Realized how she’s never really run far from home. Has always slept on the floors, couches or guest rooms of people she thinks are closer to family. never farther than a plane ride from her family. Learned to run from gate to cab to front door of who ever offered that idea. That idea she could breathe slow for just a night. 

Found everything she needed in the simple acts of a text, out of the blue. never requested but always just there as a reminder that she’s not alone. And the first was a simple question. 

A question of “a flat white or cortado?” 

Sent from some place she wasn’t sure of, in a city neither of them called home, but knew as well as the ones they did. A text sent while Tobin was sat between Becky and Alyssa, two people she’s known for half her life. They were playing video games in the hotel room designated for random things meant to resemble a living room. A place to sit and pretend their life’s were normal. 

And the thing about Christen was that she was everything Tobin needed. Never asked her to do something as violent as love her out of time. Never asked her to decide out of time of being ready. She just texted to know her coffee order. Felt it hit her not hard but firm against her sternum, this thought of life being so easy as a question of coffee. 

Tobin found comfort in changing the act of painting nails to the solace of creating. Made art in paint strokes and pencil lines to calm the restlessness of wandering. Took note of the world all around her, all the noise from sirens to voices, car horns and shouts. Noted them through camera lenses and through lines of ink that bleed into paper, rough and frayed. She learned how to move slow while listening to the buzz of the city, the hum of the crowds, on midnight walks. 

Found what life could look like outside of the game by watching people in the city streets while on walks to calm her mind.

And in between all of this, she went to Paris. Tried to find the same calmness while there, but instead fell into a cycle of arguments. Not with Shirley, no not only with Shirley. They never fought while together. Instead pretended everything was fine, ignored the things outside of them. Fell into the act of being together knowing their time would end. No Tobin fell into arguments with herself. Always doubting the things she knew, uncertain in the things she didn’t. 

Tobin felt at odds, stuck in a battle with herself whenever she was with Shirley. And it always began in small thoughts of unease. Uneasy with something Shirley did, whether it was how her touch always felt possessive. Or that she spoke over Tobin, never gave her time to form the words that grew too thick, too heavy on her tongue. Words that filled her chest, so heavy, and made her touches sluggish. Her words hollow, her breath shallow and heart beats dull. Tobin began to think of the time with her like that of sunset while surfing. Her mind sleepy, body tired, lungs aching from battling the waves that come faster than her arm strokes. 

Tobin felt every moment she spent with Shirley was something out of time. 

And for all those times they spent apart? Well she began to define their phone calls as arguments. They never begin like that, always start with a soft sigh and lazy confession of how they miss each other. They move through recaps of their days, whisper of things that reminded them of each other. Stutter and stumble over silence, over the distance between them. And Tobin struggles to find the words to explain everything she’s feeling, finds Shirley quick to place words in her mouth. 

Quick to let them turn acidic and something like dislike, spits out words like “you sound distracted.... distant.... you should want to come home.”

Finds her mind stuck, spiralling and ruminating over what those words mean. Fights to right the wrongness she feels in thinking she might be right. That it shouldn’t be this hard to talk, this hard to want to go back. Go back to Paris. And one of the things that Tobin has realized while spending time alone in Portland, is that she’s never been one to go back to things. Never been one to really hold on, stay stuck in memories... and she doesn’t know how form the words to express that. Express that Paris felt like a memory she’ll keep, but not one she wants to stay in. Not one she wants to go back to.

And it’s some time during the World Cup, in a too quiet hotel room in Canada, that she feels the weight of it all. She spoke in half sentences, mind racing and jumping from thought to thought as she spoke in the in between of Shirley’s rant. A rant she’s learned, memorized and can recite without thought. 

“But you’re coming back once it’s all done anyways... I don’t get why you’re so reluctant to just stay the summer... you’re seeing your family now. They’re there with you... you should want to be here.... you’re too scared to grow up, you need to stop acting like a child... if you loved me you’d be here... Why would I give up my life to move there?... It’s not like you actually live anywhere, you’re always running away... you can’t sleep on peoples couches forever Tobin... you obviously need someone to tell you what to do like a child. You need to think about the future.”

Finds it harder to keep the anger, the frustration that grows in her chest, rises like bile in her throat. She fights to keep the thought at bay, the words on her tongue... words like “I don’t want what you want... I don’t want that with you... I don’t want you.”

Tobin wants certain people to know that she never wanted to hurt Shirley. Never wanted her to not be enough. But in the time she’s spent trying to figure it all out... she’s learned that no matter how hard she tries... it just never feels like it’s enough. She never feels like she’s enough for her.

It was a hotel room in Canada, that was too quiet to be silent. Too loud for her to hear the door open or the footsteps, hesitant but steady, of Christen walking in. It was a hotel room in Canada, after a fight with Shirley on the phone. One that ended abruptly, with violent words of love, of not being enough, that Tobin snapped. The room was too quiet to be silent, and the feeling of confusion, of frustration, was drowning her. And all she wanted was a break from the waves that kept her gasping for air. 

So she let it all break... threw her phone just for the idea of destruction. 

“FUCK!” Hoped the plea would be heard for absolution... wanted a break.

Tried to count her breathes on a count of 4...3... 2... help. 

Heard the soft tread of someone moving on the periphery of her anger. Tried to ignore how easy breathing came because of her. Tired to ignore the soft thud of a coffee cup being placed on the table next to her. Felt it echo out from under her ribs like the way thunder rounds. Deep and heavy... like the sky is set to break. Breathed out on a rhythm of 4,3,2... release. 

Felt it all so suddenly settling heavy in her finger tips and toes... how it’s all ending. 

Wanted to scream or cry or plead, beg, for absolution of doing an act as violent as not... loving someone enough. 

Took note of the movement on the periphery of her sadness. Refocused to the moment of feeling it all so certain, so set in her decision, that forever was too long a time for one to commit to. That she had tried, had fought... weighed her rights and her wrongs. Knew the answer to her question of faith and devotion. Took note of Christen just on the periphery of her decision.

Felt herself jump at the sound of her voice. Soft and unsure, like she was scared of breaking the silence. Soft and unsure, like speaking was an act of boldness.

“Teach me how to play FIFA on this thing?” Focused on the way she played with the controller, forgot about her game paused for a phone call. 

Hesitated in her answer, uncertain if she should laugh or cry at the question. Shook it from her head... breathed slow and deep before moving to sit on the ground by her feet. 

Refocused what energy she had on picking up her controller. Restarted the game, wordlessly move through setting the match. Found Christen content in copying her actions... never moving to break the silence that began to feel too loud to make a sound. Thought if it ever broke... it would sound like thunder. Wondered if the sky would break open, and the waves lessen. 

Refocused her energy to playing a video game... felt she could breath while just sitting next to her. Found her voice cracking as she laughed at the things she did... found the phone call just a memory two hours later and Christen sat on the floor beside her. Coffee cups empty, in a room with just the two of them. Thought how easy it could all be to not have to speak all these things inside of her. 

Lost track of time while the light slowly faded. Spoke in voices just above a whisper, like neither of them wanted to disturb the other. Refocused the conversation from video games, to strategy, and the pressure of winning. Made light the conversation with wild tales of poorly named nail polish. Discussed what it’s like to create something out of nothing with paint strokes and pencil lines. Fell asleep during an attempt to stay still enough to meditate... first slowly, with steady breathes of 4,3,2- then sudden, after Christen hit Tobin’s shoulder to get her to stop fidgeting. 

What Tobin remembers most of that night is not the decision she made. Or the fact that something as simple coffee, or texts asking her order. It wasn’t any of the small things, and nothing much of the big things... it was the thought that she wanted Christen to know that she didn’t ignore her. Never had and could never ignore her. But she refocused to knowing the rhythm in which Christen’s breaths evened out as she fell asleep.


	6. Thought it would be louder...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was on a plane ride set for Washington that Tobin finally understood the difference between obligation and devotion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it’s been a minute...

It was on a plane ride set for Washington that Tobin finally understood the difference between obligation and devotion. It was when she finally understood how you could still love someone but just...not in the same way... because the thing was that she still loved Shirley. Felt obligated to make their relationship work, to keep her in her life in some way. The difference was that she didn’t love her in the same way she had once. Not anymore... hadn’t for some time. 

She can’t pin point when it changed, or if it ever really did. She loved her once, in the way that you do all first loves. Intensely and even blindly some would say. She can’t pin point when it all shifted and everything became a question of obligation rather than devotion. Found the answer between the two while sat on a plane set for Washington.

She was confused, frustrated and stuck in this sense of sadness. One she had never experienced before, one she was unsure of. And to figure it out she took notice of things other people did. Found it hard to voice her concerns, felt it impossible to find the right words. Tried harder to express it all in gifts, and acts but felt them fall short. So she began to keep a list to sort them all out, to make them facts rather than ideas. Thought how funny it was she that she had to resort to this thing she’s always made fun of. 

But she started while sat in a hotel room all alone. Had kept it within reach to let go of any thought too overwhelming. Spoke over the difference between devotion and obligation on Sunday’s in a hotel room meant to signify something normal, something like home. Tore apart her actions only to stitch them back together, had wanted so desperately for someone else to do it for her. 

And what she found was a list of things she loved about Shirley. 

A list of things like:  
How she’s quiet until she’s not, and suddenly she’s something big. Something that demands attention. 

That she’s always humming, always singing without thought. Like there is a song in her head she can’t keep tame.

Her touch is deliberate, never without intention. Planned and precise to unravel, to take possession.

That home is her base, is never one to explore too far from her apartment. Never one to make her focus be something outside of it. More than happy to stay in making dinner over some adventure in a bar.

Her patience for excellence, for the best of everyone. How she demands the people in her life to be something more.

She loves how mornings are meant for her, meant to be slow and leisurely. Never one to rush them, she sings under breath while making breakfast. Stays in pjs until noon. Reads over coffee cups and watches without intention of the people on the street below them.

Tobin lists the ways she loved her. The things that bring how much she loved her to the surface. 

The difference is that it’s no longer something overwhelming... no it brings the ache of something she misses. Something gone and no longer real, no longer tangible.

Tobin lists the things about her that she dislikes. Things like:

She keeps things in, never willing to talk about them until they explode. Until they grow and suddenly they’re a divide between them. A reason to fight.

She speaks over her, quick and impatient in voicing her thoughts. Always certain she knows what should be said next.

Hates the way she acts so possessive when others are around. The touches not meant for reassurance or comfort but all done in possession. All set to make sure the people around them know that Tobin is hers.

Can’t stand the way that her home has come to resemble something of a cage. Finds it stifling the way she’s meant to stay in it always, only wondering out with her by her side.

Finds herself drowning in these expectations set out for her. Finds herself drowning in them, never able to break the surface of them... always failing in someway dangerous.

And the thing she hates the most? How she has to fight the urge to move, fight not to run. How she fights to stay still in the morning, refocuses to being something for her, for Shirley. 

The thing she realized is how the things she loved had shifted, had changed over time. What she realized is that she loved them for a moment, a time set in one place. Found it hitting hard at the centre of her chest, sudden and violent, that her time to love Shirley was over. And the cause of that realization was not something Shirley did, was never something as tangible as that. No it was the realization that she didn’t know Christen... and that thought shifted everything.

Tobin first learned that she didn’t really know Christen on a walk back to the hotel while in step with someone else. 

Tobins thinks to this day that of all her actions, the most violent of them was that. Walking home, or whatever idea she knew of home, with Shirley after a dinner out during the World Cup. They had fallen back into being with each other, present and in the moment. All problems and arguments pushed to the periphery, and Tobin was reminded of all the reasons she fell in love with her. Found her falling into place easily amongst her teammates and family. Felt comfort in her touch now suddenly present, found comfort in the familiarity of it all. Didn’t fully acknowledge the absence of Christen until it became so apparent that she couldn’t ignore it.

Shirley had excused herself from the table with a casual request for Tobin to order for her. Thought nothing of it as the waiter took note of it, paid more attention to the conversation with her mother. Moved her seat, not closer but just so, just enough for Shirley to retake her own. Didn’t feel the need to be closer. She had ordered a glass of white wine, nothing too sweet, just something she’d heard went well with sea food. Something she remembered someone else, someone suddenly absent, liking. Didn’t think that Shirley always preferred beer or rum over any kind of wine, always wrinkled her nose in distaste of it. 

But Tobin wasn’t thinking of things so trivial, was caught up in the comfort of having family so close. Paid no attention to Shirley voicing her confusion at the order, stayed focused to her mother retelling all the things she’d done while Tobin was away. Took note of how Perry casually spoke of Christen as she offered to switch glasses with Shirley. 

Took note of the way she had said, “It’s not a problem. I like white and Christen had suggested this the other day.” 

Found herself speaking out of turn and without thought. “Christen?”

“Yeah she suggested the restaurant, said the house white was on par with red hook winery.” Found it all so confusing an idea that they spoke about something so casual. 

“Red hook winery?” Thought she’d only known Christen to sip whiskey from a glass. Couldn’t remember a time they ever drank wine.

“Yeah it’s a vineyard just outside of the city, I had mentioned how we went for a work thing. Any way she suggested the restaurant and since you’re clueless when it comes to picking places to eat I made the reservation.”

Found the fact that Christen had suggested not only the restaurant but also a specific wine to be something confusing. Something unknown and so trivial an idea that sat empty in the back of her mind. 

“I didn’t realize you were so close to Christen.” Felt shirley’s voice to be something heavy and unsettling.

“Oh well you know how it is with these tournaments. We spend so much time with the other families waiting for Tobin to finish that we just become friends.” Found the topic changed as her mother places her hand on her shoulder. A look of narrowed eyes, and subtle head shake pulling Tobin’s focus back to the moment. “Speaking of waiting, Tobin when are you due back to the hotel?”

Topic changed, conversation turned back to casual and practiced phrases over plates of food allowed Tobin’s mind to wander. To ruminate on the idea that there are things about Christen, even something as small as the type of wine she likes, that Tobin doesn’t know. Well it hits sudden and bruising against her sternum. Causes her heart to skip when Shirley touches the small of her back, and she thinks of how wrong it all is. To be thinking of someone else when sitting next to her. 

She refocused to holding her hand while walking back to the hotel. Counted the things she loved of her on a rhythm of 4,3,2, release. Spoke them as a mantra and revelled in the smile they tore from Shirley’s lips. Made certain to slow her footsteps, keep still in the moment so that it may last a minute longer. Traced the curves of her face, breathed deep the spice of her shampoo. Remembered how she had loved her. 

The violent act of that night, the thing that weighed heavy and uneasy in the middle of Tobin’s chest, was the realization that this moment, near perfect, was out of time. 

And Tobin will tell you the difference between sacrifice and commitment is the intention in which one chooses. A sacrifice is a decision made... one meant to let something go for someone else, something else, outside of you. And a commitment... well it’s the decision made daily, not always because we want to, but done so for something greater. Something bigger than just herself.

And the difference between obligation and sacrifice is how often one makes the choice. The difference between devotion and commitment is the idea that we divide them. Make one bigger than the other when neither can be done alone. The difference between obligation and devotion is the want to make the choice. 

And this is what made Tobin’s decision for her... the idea of want. Of what drives her intention behind her actions.

What made Tobin think of all of this, was a phone call from Cheney, with Arod somewhere on the line. What made her stop, decide and run... what made her mind stop, click and start again was Cheney yelling at her... in the way that only she dared. Fearlessly and direct, no floral words or subtle hints.

No, Cheney was all blunt force and violent awakenings. She was the pistol shot that brought Tobin to earth, body bruised and ego broken. 

Cheney called her and said, “get your shit together.” 

Listed all the acts she’s done, all so violent and confusing, while she’s been trying to keep this boundary firm. This boundary that was never anything more than just a line in the sand. And with the end of the World Cup came the end of the facade that she was doing anything to stop from stepping over it. 

She didn’t stop herself from stepping over it. 

Had been inching closer to it, feet drawing even the sand in which it was drawn in. And the violence of the action, of waking early to draw while Christen meditated across their room. Of learning her stride so she could walk in step next to her. Had mastered the task of leaving unnoticed so that she may know how she saw whatever city they were in. Was struck dumb by the notion that she didn’t really know her. Knew only the idea of her, of what she was and what she could become. And the violence of that idea, the violence of learning everything she could while in the in between of a World Cup dream and real life. The violence of it all, was how she felt herself falling in love with Christen and not just the idea of what she could be. 

The thing about the phone call, all brutal truths and unwavering facts of Tobin’s actions. Was that she had no argument, no way to refute them. Cheney listed the ways in which Tobin was “being selfish. Even you have to notice the way it affects her.” Hated that she thought so concretely the consequences to both Shirley and Christen. 

Because Tobin has always weighed the rights and the wrongs of her actions. Held them close to her chest, on the tip of her tongue. And she knew just how violent it all could end, how unfair it’s all been. To learn Christen’s lunch order, to know how she prefers walks around town with no set destination in mind while she, Tobin, would be on the phone ordering flowers to be sent to a girl in Paris. Flowers meant to sooth the ache of an argument, now continuous, of Shirley demanding more attention. Demanding the attention Tobin had set to learning everything she could about Christen.

And she made final her decision, created the distance, and made firm the boundary that whatever home was, it wasn’t with Shirley. She did so by buying a condo in Portland. By denying a contract to play in Paris. Stopped asking Shirley to compromise, to come to the states. She created the distance she needed to figure out how she could do it... set roots deep enough to build a home.

It was in an airport in Washington, after a flight Tobin spent thinking deep to make certain the weight of her decision. Thought how she had always weighed the rights and the wrongs of her actions, and never the pros and cons of their consequences. It was in an airport in Washington when she called a girl in Paris. Stood off to the side, where the noise was not quiet but less. Felt her heart break, her stomach sink, as an ache for something past took hold of her tongue when she answered.

“Allo?” Took pause to remember the sound of her voice. The familiarity of the greeting. “Tobin?”

“Hey...” the words too thick, too heavy for her to continue.

“What’s wrong?” Wanted to cry, to sob, for all the things trapped in her chest to break. “Tobin?... I thought you were flying?”

Hated the quiet confusion in her voice, like she was aware of something coming. 

“Yeah...” took pause to breathe, couldn’t find the rhythm to quiet the racing of her pulse. “I-I just landed.”

“... Landed where?” Thought her words sounded cautious, her voice too even to be anything less than scared. 

“Washington... DC.” Didn’t know how to do it. Didn’t know what to say. 

“... I didn’t think you’d call. Thought you’d just text like normal.” Fought to breathe deep....

“Yeah, no... I- I needed, need to talk to you.” Tried to focus on the planes on the tarmac. Tried to ignore the commotion of the airport. 

“Okay... what do you need to talk about?” Felt everything burn and ache like she was under water. “Tobin... you’re scaring me.”

Thought of every moment she knew she loved her. Thought of the curves of her face, the hum of her voice, and how she had loved her. 

“I... I don’t want to scare you.” Knew she had to be cruel, had to be honest.

“Then don’t... just tell me what’s wrong.” Hoped, oh how she hoped, her decision was right. Fair. Something not kind but not cruel, not violent. 

“Nothings-“ wanted to calm her fear. Felt the lie too big to swallow. “... I just needed to talk to you.”

“About what?” Found the courage in someway, in some trivial thing as the sound of some stranger passing by.

“About Paris...” swallowed her pride, broken and battered. “I’m- can’t... Shirley... I’m not going to make it.” 

And the thing Tobin has hated, will always hate... is how quiet it all seemed. How much of a coward she was to end it all over a phone call.

“.... What do you mean... not make it?” Thought her voice too tired, too even and void of emotion. Like she was keeping it all closed in. Wanted her to explode, to break the quiet of the moment.

“I’m... not coming back.” Heard her name called as if under water. “I needed you to know, now, that I’m not coming back. Not like you want me too... and I can’t tell you how sorry I am. How cowardly it is to say this over the phone... but I can’t come back.”

Sighed the words out like they could bring some form for relief. Like it’d make it all easier.

“... jódete.” Heard her name called again only louder. Paid no attention to anything but the silence of a phone call suddenly ended. 

Thought to herself how she expected this moment to be louder... fought not to break. To just hold on a moment longer. Heard Amy’s voice call her name, only louder.


	7. The thing about phone calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’ll pause, say how after years of scattered phone calls, Tobin had stopped calling. Admit to moments when she near doubted it all. Hates to admit how she doubted it.

The thing about phone calls... is that you never really remember everything said. But the feelings, the crushing weight of them all combined... well they scar like heat burns. Blooming, all angered and red, but if lucky it can fade into something pink. Something that’s just a reminder.

And they never started then stopped, there were no violent acts like drunken kisses. Just a slow burn and ache in their chests of a promise of something, something too big. Like all things Christen’s done... she never acted to rush it. Didn’t want to rush it, felt like it would be something dangerous to rush. So made certain to take carefully measured steps, reminded herself to be present. Only ever let herself hope for something more. She never wanted to rush Tobin. Never wanted to pressure her into something bombastic, thought it needed to grow slow. 

Reminded herself that Tobin was in a relationship. Held the words at bay, kept them on the periphery of being something too consuming. Too big. 

And she can tell you of the all the moments she felt it. This thing that was always there. Revel’s in the fact that only they really know it. Held it close. Likes the idea that she can say they never did anything violent like start and stop, just grew into to it. Can’t pin point a single moment that it started. 

But when it did... well it happened suddenly. Like all things Tobin Heath does, it started suddenly and intensely. Knows the moment it all changed so sudden. 

It was on a visit to Washington, with people Tobin claims are closer than family, that it all shifted so suddenly.

The ache and pain of loving Tobin was never due to not being with her. No. It was watching her seem so unsettled, so uncertain. It was the unknown of her thoughts. The confusion etched into her brow that hit Christen with blows meant to bruise. It was the divide they had set with words like “not yet.” It was the acts they ignored, until too many years into it, that made it all seem so unbearable. 

And Christen wants certain people to know, that she never made Tobin choose. Never wanted to be something she needed. Only ever wanted her to want her back. In the way that all epic love stories spoke of. And when the time came... all things they used to keep the idea of them on the periphery suddenly disappeared. Well it started sudden, with racing pulses and words not yet spoken. 

And it was on a visit to Washington, with people Tobin describes as something closer than family. The shift now something tangible. Something real. 

She’d heard in whispers from someone not Tobin how she’d called to make certain of the distance between Portland and Paris. Didn’t know what it meant, but felt it all happen so fast. The idea that the ground didn’t seem uneven, the distance now non-existent between them. Felt all their actions not quite slow and uncertain, but measured and questioning. 

And she wonders now, just what it all looked like from the periphery. How other people saw them, needs certain people to know they never wanted it to be violent. But it happened slow, then sudden. Shifted on a visit to Washington. 

Was too scared to voice it, felt the question too thick, too heavy to form. So instead she swallowed it whole, let it sit as a ball in her chest. 

And the thing about it all, is that Christen has never been one for details. Always remembers the facts. Likes things tangible that she can hold onto. Remembers the way Tobin had said, low and below a whisper, “I’ll call you later... just, later okay.”

The thing about phone calls is that you never truly remember all the things said. But the way they felt... well they can scar if not careful. 

She can tell you that the sound of Tobin’s voice has always calmed her before. That she had felt the absence of the phone calls in the months leading up this. That her emotions felt frayed, mind caught not racing but oddly hallow with what words she could say. Refocused her energy to everything present, took solace in the people around her. 

And when her phone rang in the hotel room sometime later. Too late to be anything less than significant. She felt herself jump. Her heart beat skip and stutter. Counted the rings as a way to keep count her breathes... realized she’d stopped breathing. Stood, all alone, in a hotel room too quite to be silent. 

Measured the distance to pick up the phone... answered on the fifth ring. Just before she knew her voicemail would click. Felt desperate to let it click, to avoid the answer to a question she only just realized she’d been asking. 

“...hi.” Sighed it all out, steady and slow. Thankful for years of meditation in the moment. Thankful for the practice of turning the sound of her pulse into something comforting. 

“Hi.” Felt her voice sounded not unlike something sad, something painful. 

Began to question all the actions between them. Wondered if they were something gentle and steady or something violent and sudden. 

“Hi.” And the thing she remembers clearly is how her voice broke just above a whisper. 

How Tobin seemed to sigh out a laugh but didn’t break the silence. Found her breathe in the sound, felt the comfort she’d missed just knowing she was on the line. That she was somewhere close. 

“I’m...” another sigh, slow and even, like she was trying to calm something racing. Felt the idea hit her hard against her sternum... rumble out in the silent pause between words. “I’m not... I’m not going back to Paris.” And she’ll tell anyone that asks, how it went slow until this moment. “I’m not going back to stay.”

Was so scared how it could go so sudden. Thought how desperate she felt to keep it slow just so she could know everything about the moment. How desperate she felt to run, to move. To end the distance. 

“I’m sorry Tobin.” Felt it the only words she could say, because the thing about breaks... is how sudden the pain is. How deep the ache can linger. “I’m so sorry.”

And the thing Christen wants certain people to know... is that she was never angry that Tobin wasn’t hers. Had always felt like she was something constant, something close to the idea of home. But oh how she hated the desperation she felt in knowing that Tobin kept things in until she didn’t. Just said them, so casually, as facts. 

“Don’t- please.” Felt the word as a plea for absolution. Hoped, wanted, needed to be the one to give her it. “Don’t ever say you’re sorry. Not for this... you can’t be sorry for this.”

Felt comfort in the sound of her desperation... in knowing that she wasn’t, hadn’t been, alone in all of this. 

“ I am though... I am sorry.” Didn’t feel like the words conveyed just what she was feeling. “I’m sorry your relationship ended... sorry that you’ve had to go through this.”

And it wasn’t coming out right. Wasn’t lessening the guilt that curled like smoke in her stomach. Reminded her too much of the taste of cigarette ash. 

“None of this- I want you to know- understand... that none of this is your fault.” Took note of the firmness in Tobin’s voice, tried to cling to it like it was something tangible. “Me and Shirley- we, we were us okay? And it- I, couldn’t make it work. I couldn’t be what- or who, she needed me to be... not when I’ve been-“ stopped short to take breathe. Likes to believe she needed to collect herself. “I haven’t been fair- been too selfish and unkind....To both of you.”

Christen can say that they’ve never started and stopped. Never been uncertain in their relationship... were always aware of the other. Understood the pain in Tobin’s voice while voicing the confusion. The guilt of pretending she, they, could be committed to anything outside of them. Have both been too dumb to take notice of the thing they’ve spent years circling. 

“That- Tobin. That doesn’t make it less... you loving Shirley wasn’t anything less.”   
Christen can tell you what she’s not... she’s not intentionally cruel, never been one to be envious. Didn’t envy the confusion Tobin must’ve felt... of knowing Christen had been stood, waiting, on the periphery. 

“... you know... in all of this, I’ve hated how I knew you, out of everyone, how you’d understand it.... how I just can’t love her the same way that she loves me.”

Christen will tell anyone that asks, that she can’t remember exactly the words they said during this phone call. But the things behind them, that sat suffocating in their chest, heavy in their stomachs... well they’ve stuck like scars formed from some violent event. From being too young to commit to something as big as loving someone so intensely.

“The thing I wanted someone to tell me after Vero... the thing I thought I needed to hear.” Didn’t know when she’d started crying, but felt the tears sliding down her cheek. “ what I wanted to know... was that loving her was never a mistake. It was never something I should’ve stopped, because I couldn’t stop it tobin.... I loved her, so so much.... I wanted to hear that it was okay to have not loved her enough.... it’s okay to have felt it anyways.”

And she tried to picture just exactly how Tobin looked in that moment. Pictured her stood, shoulders hunched, clinging to a phone in some room just like hers. She wanted to run to her... bring coffee in a paper cup. to play some game. To just sit still next to her. Felt it not her place to offer. 

“Chris?” Thought she heard her sniffle, voice low and rough with the ache of her heart breaking. 

“Yeah?” Tried to stop the tears, tried to steady her voice. Wanted to be something firm, something solid so Tobin could break freely.

“... I’m not sorry for calling you.” Revelled in the way the words hit not firm but gentle against her sternum. “I’m not sorry for any moment with you... and I feel I should be. But I’m not.... and that hasn’t been fair.” Felt her voice rumble out like thunder sounds, booming and rolling in waves from her rib cage. “It hasn’t been fair to have said what I did on the beach... but you’ve always scared me. I’ve been too scared of the idea of you... have been since the moment I’ve met you.”

Thought back over years, over all the people she’d been. Thought back to how she wasn’t ready... wasn’t brave enough for this conversation. 

“... you scare me too.” Could only whisper it, hoped Tobin understood it.

“I have to go back- collect my things.” Took pause to steady her breath, “I owe her that. I owe her the chance to talk it out... but I want you to know- before I go- I want you to know that I’m not scared anymore.” 

The thing about Tobin Heath is that she’ll know she’ll know you forever from the first handshake. And from words like “good game.”? Well she knew she’d learn to love her. But the thing about Christen... is that she’s known Tobin was something constant, something big. Took years to figure out just how to love her back. 

The thing about them together? Is that they never started then stopped. Had grown up into it, this thing between them. And if anyone else had said it, confessed something so big as not being scared? Well Christen would’ve coward, drawn back into herself at words so bold.

That night though, well she breathed deep on a rhythm of 4,3,2, release.

“I’m not either Tobin.” Felt brave in speaking so easy, so casually, like it was just a fact. “I’m not scared.”

And she thought it’d be louder. That her chest would break open, and all these things inside her would bleed out. Instead it felt like floating, arms too tired to fight the current. It felt like floating, body aching, lungs burning... but body weightless. 

Could hear the sound of a door opening in a room not hers. Hated to end this phone call. All of a sudden nervous.

“I should go...” wanted to hold on just a minute longer to remember the moment.

“Okay.” Wasn’t sure of what to say next... couldn’t think of what more could be said. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah... yeah I’ll see you at the next camp.” Couldn’t seem to remember all the other phone calls they’d shared. 

“Promise?” Could only think to end it like this.

“Always.” Clung, eyes closed so she could picture the lines Tobin’s face, to the sound of her on the other side of a phone call. “I’ll see you in Hawaii... I’ll see you when I get home.”

What Christen can tell you about the phone calls when asked, decades later, is that they were something constant. When asked about when they started, all the overwhelming moments that lead to her loving Tobin. She’ll pause, say how after years of scattered phone calls, Tobin had stopped calling. Admit to moments when she near doubted it all. Hates to admit how she doubted it. 

Will stop to take pause, think of all the people they’d been. Never hesitate, or think to stop the smile that comes at a memory of Tobin. Sat all alone. Head resting to one side, with a beanie on despite the warm weather. Christen will say there are too many moments to count between them. Eyes glazed as if living in a moment years passed, she’ll speak low and steady. Of how she walked into a lobby of a hotel in Hawaii. Found Tobin waiting in a chair to the side of the commotion of people closer than family reuniting. 

She’ll say they never started then stopped, that the moments between them were all to big to make a sound. Talk over phone calls she can’t remember exactly, just knows of the feelings behind them. When asked about when they really started, she’ll say Tobin stood up suddenly, with her phone falling. How she ignored it, shy smile on her lips... arms open. 

The thing Christen will say she remembers most about the beginning... was how Tobin always greeted her in the lobby. Voice low, arms open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only ever intended to write a one shot about them. Thought they’d always seemed like something solid, something gentle. Somehow wrote a 6 part monolith, all disjointed and out of time. Thanks to everyone who’s stuck with it.
> 
> Think I’m done with them until the next time.


End file.
